Okay. . .So this story is written in – sort of—commemoration to my life. I'm not unhappy or anything, and my family isn't like Bella's parents. But I wanted to sort of mold Bella more, and maybe change her circumstances. I don't particularly enjoy non-mythical stories involving Bella and the Cullens, but this I sort felt the urge to write. You may notice while reading this that Bella isn't EXACTLY like in the twilight saga. She is shy, yes, but much more defiant and darker (kinda more similar to Kristen Stewart). Edward on the other hand is very similar to how he is the saga, though he isn't a vampire. The rest of Cullens are as I see them. The entire story will be written in Bella's perspective. Bella lives in Canada and goes to a special arts school called Canterbury High School( which is where i go). Renee and Charlie are still married and live in Ottawa with Bella and her brother Jamie (which is MY brother's name!)

I dont own the rights to Twilight, but I love it like my bible.

How they Mended Me

Chapter 1: Vodka

Bella's POV

I looked around my, deep into the woods a mere 30 minutes from my house. There was no one here and I was sitting along on a damp log silently. The trees were just beginning to loose their leaves and the air was just beginning to cool. In fact, I noted that it was about time that I started to wear a sweater.

I thought back the fight I had had with my mother only an hour ago.

"Mom, you don't understand!" I shout at her. She is fuming at me visibly.

"There is nothing to understand. Your father and I don't believe that dance is the right path for you! So, we are taking you out of it." She shrugs as if she wasn't deciding to ruin my life.

"I will pay for it myself." I say strongly. I have more then enough money and the studio I go to is dying to have me as a teacher. They would give the classes to me for free if I agreed to teach.

"NO!" Renee yells. She had not seen any path that gets me what I want.

"It's my money! I should be allowed to do what I want with it!" I throw my arms up in frustration. She always did this to me. Charlie too.

"Ugh! Why do care so much about it? It is a pointless, short career that gets you no nothing! NO WHERE! Such a disappointment, as usual! You will be living off us for years!" Renee says in a disgusted tone. I have known since I was 6 that I wanted to pursue dance. My parents had always frowned upon it. I had also known since I was twelve that they would never allow it. They had always told me—well yelled at me really—that if I became the dancer I wanted to they would never support me. If I was low on money or couldn't pay rent they wouldn't send me a nice check for 100 dollars or so. Those harsh words had never put a damper on my dream. Neither did this.

The thing that hits the closest to home though, is that she is sickened at the thought of caring for her daughter when she is out of the house. Like she doesn't love me enough to do it.

I glare at her for one for second and then feel the tears come to my eyes. I run out the back door of my house in the next. As I run headlong into the woods I note that the next house to ours is covered in cars. People moving in? Hmm.

Tears streamed down my face as I thought about it. Suddenly I was so angry I couldn't think of anything.

I did the thing I always did. Something, that after I did it, made me feel guilty. I yanked out the flask full of straight vodka and took a gulp. I gagged at the burning in my nose and closed my eyes. As terrible as I knew it was, alcohol was the only thing that eased the pain. That was probably because it slowed down my system, but I didn't matter. At least it helped.

I took another huge swig, and forced it down my throat. My stomach curled when it hit my empty stomach. I had forgotten that I hadn't eaten all day. I barely noticed the hunger anymore.

I wondered if my Renee was getting so upset because she had finally noticed the weight I had lost. I wore baggy nondescript clothes so it wouldn't be as prominent. I knew that starving myself was just as bad for me as the vodka—worse maybe. But since the American Ballet Theatre was looking into coming to visit my dance studio, I wanted to look as good as possible. Maybe they would offer me a spot at the school, if I were thin enough. Hopefully they would soon so I could move out of this hellhole. I loved the school I went to, but my friends weren't people I could trust. I loved my brother, Jamie, but my parents favored him. As for my parents, I would die for them, yes, but I wasn't sure if that feeling was mutual.

That thought punched a huge hole into my chest and I needed to gasp for air. I took the flask to my mouth and took gulp after gulp. My nose burned and my stomach felt so warm it was disorienting. I noticed that the sun was getting lower in the sky and I thought I should go home but I didn't want to. I just kept sipping at the vodka. I noticed—too—that my vision was blurring slightly and whenever I bit at my lip I couldn't feel it. Wonderful, now I'm getting wasted. I thought to myself sarcastically. I drank when I was upset, yes, but never had I drank THIS much.

I still didn't want to go back home so but I got up anyways. I stumbled wildly. I was clearly more intoxicated then I thought. I had to hold my arms out to make sure I didn't fall, though I did many times. When I noticed a shaky light ahead—shaky because my vision was impaired—I started to walk faster. Three steps away from the mouth of the woods I splattered onto the ground.

"Ungh." I moaned. I pulled the flask out and took the last sip. I had finished a whole bottle of alcohol. . .not good. The drink didn't help my already nauseous stomach. I moaned again and threw up all over the ground.

After a few minutes of lying next to my vomit I heard someone gasp.

Oh no! Not my mother! I screamed to myself. I didn't think that I had the equilibrium to stand up, so I waited for her to yell at me. I groaned at the thought.

"Are you alright?" a velvety voice asked softly. My mother sounded so odd. I giggled at the thought of my mother becoming a man.

"Mommy?" I asked strangely. My voice sounded like I was a five year old. I laughed again. So the liquor was kicking in, in another way.

"No, I'm not your mother. Would you like some helping getting home?" the voice wondered politely. Not Renee? I sighed with relief. I randomly realized that this voice was a boy, maybe a man. He had flawlessly perfect grammar, and articulation. He seemed nice. But I didn't know what to say to him. He had asked if I needed help. Getting home.

No! "No!" I shouted, my numb arms tried to lift me up so I could run away, but by the time I got to my feet I felt my legs tumbling and my falling to ground again. My eyes shook, so I only took in the shadowed tall figured in front of my. Just as my head was about to fly into a tree I felt arms grip my waist. "NO! No, don't bring me back to that hellhole! No, never, ever, ever, ever, ever!" I screamed like a baby. I tried to push the arms away but they only gripped harder.

I suddenly started sobbing, so hard that it hurt my head. I gave up trying to push away and instead let the arms support me. I sunk down to my knees slowly, and then felt the arms swoop me up into the air. I thought maybe the arms were carrying me but I was too hysterical to make sure. The sobs continued until I saw the lights of my house ahead.

I tried to smother the tears but only managed to stop the ripping sound coming from my chest. I opened my eyes and saw the arms were still holding me and they were walking up the 6 steps to my front door. The arms set me on my feet, and the movement twisted my stomach. Just as my mother came to the door frantically I threw up all over the concrete patio.

Oooh!! intense!!

This never actually happened to me. . .though alot of the things that DO happen are true events. I will specify when the chapter is a memoir. . .

Well i hoped you enjoyed!! This is just the beginning though, so read and review!! PLEASE! reviews mean alot!

-Morgan Mae :)(: